Lily of Godric's Hollow
by genevieveyoung
Summary: Prior to her arrival, Godric's Hollow was a quiet place, but all it takes is one orphan girl with red hair and a wild imagination to turn Minerva and Albus's whole world upside down. / Anne of Green Gables AU
1. Miss Rita Skeeter is Surprised

**Author's Note:**

 **It's been a while since I've posted anything, but I've been having a bit of writer's block. I have so many ideas, but I feel like I just don't have the words for them. Nonetheless, this is an idea I've had since the summer, and am super excited to be posting. This past summer I read _Anne of Green Gables_ for the first time, and I immediately could just picture the story as a Jily AU, so that's what this is! **

**I'll be basing most of my writing off of the novel, but I have watched the movies from the 1980s, as well as the Netflix show, so I might incorporate some ideas from those as well. That being said, I'm trying to keep the characters fairly canon, with an emphasis on _fairly_. It should also be noted that this will be taking place in the early 1900s as the books do. I debated for a long time over whether or not to write it that way, but ultimately decided to keep it the same timeline. I also do quote and take scenes directly from the book, so kudos to anyone who noticed similarities. **

**Now without further adieu, please enjoy and leave a review if you enjoyed it, hated it, or just need some place to dump your thoughts. Thanks!**

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 **Disclaimer: Everything here is inspired by, or taken from the amazing minds of the lovey ladies, Lucy Maud Montgomery and Joanne K. Rowling**

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 _ **Miss Rita Skeeter is Surprised**_

 _'If Marilla had said that Matthew had gone to Bright River to meet a kangaroo from Australia Mrs Rachel could not have been more astonished. She was actually stricken dumb for five seconds'_

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If a resident of Lyndegate Brooks had a secret they wished to keep to themselves, they had best not spend time around Miss Rita Skeeter. Miss Skeeter had a talent for persuading one to share their darkest desires, and most wistful wishes. She'd managed to get Filius Flitwick to share that he added a dash of cinnamon to his famous chocolate chip biscuit recipe, a family secret passed down from his great-great-grandmother, and had manipulated Pomona Sprout into revealing that she used a mixture of manure, mineral water, and brandy to get her pumpkins to grow to the ginormous size that won her first prize at the Halloween festival each year.

You see, Rita Skeeter was the town gossip, and she loved to tell a tale. She'd fancied herself a writer when she was younger, working for newspapers around the world and writing about scandals that earned her headlines, a rare feat for a woman. Since she'd moved to Lyndegate Brooks **,** in the hopes that the fresh air and the silence that accompanied small towns would benefit her whilst writing her autobiography, she'd taken great delight in discovering what the residents of Lyndegate Brooks were hiding.

She often took to sitting in the old rocking chair on her front porch, claiming that she was "clearing her head, and getting the juices pumping, the better to recall all her fantastic feats", so that she could look out across the town square. When she'd first chose a house upon her arrival in Lyndegate Brooks, she'd picked one right in the center of town, in front of the town greens, so that she could spy- er, that is, _greet_ \- all who passed by her house. She could often be seen with a pen in hand, scribbling furiously in a notebook, marking down the times of the actions of her neighbors.

On this particular day, she found herself out on the front porch in mid afternoon, around 2:00 pm, attempting to get cool. It had been a hot and humid late spring day and no matter how many windows she opened, she was unable to get her house aired out. So she found herself rocking in her chair, a newspaper open on her lap. The paper was a prop, so that she could pretend to be reading should anyone glance her way, but she fooled no one, as she hadn't turned a page in over thirty minutes. As she watched, she saw a buggy go by with Albus Dumbledore sitting on the bench. She was most surprised, as he was wearing his best blue suit, the one he wore when attending town meetings, or when going into Ottery St. Catchpole on business.

What really caught Rita's attention was that it was a Tuesday, and Albus never went into Ottery St. Catchpole unless it was a weekend. And beside, he should be out working his fields, as she'd overheard him telling Dedalus Diggle after the last meeting that he was going to sow his turnip seed this week. And the only reason she knew _that_ was because Diggle had asked Albus what he planned to do for the week. Albus Dumbledore was a man who played his cards very close to his chest, offering as little information as possible, all the while his bright blue eyes sparkling with a mischievousness that made Rita grit her teeth in frustration.

She watched the buggy disappear down the road, and almost immediately jumped to her feet. It was most peculiar, hence, making it _most interesting._ "Perhaps I ought to drop by Godric's Hollow for a spot of tea…" Rita muttered to herself, grinning.

Making up her mind quickly, she hurried inside to put her things away, locked up, and set off up the road toward Godric's Hollow. It was quite the trek, as Godric's Hollow was a mile from the town center, but Rita was willing to go to great lengths in the pursuit of gossip.

When she arrived at the house, and quite of out breath, she stopped to admire the house. It was one of the oldest houses in Lyndegate Brooks, yet it was well kept and quite tidy, to the point that Rita noted that all the blades of grass looked to be of equal height, and despite the abundance of trees - most of the orchard's cherry trees were pink with blossoms that rustled softly in the weak and spare gusts of wind, the willow's long limbs gently brushing the dirt - that there were no spare twigs, leaves, or petals on the lawn. _Bet she sweeps the yard as often as she does the house_ , Rita thought sardonically. She wondered what her maid would say if she asked the girl to sweep her yard.

She knocked on the front door, mostly out of the expectation of politeness, waiting a few seconds before pushing it open and walking inside. She fastidiously wiped her feet on the mat, gods forbid she should track some debris onto Minerva's floor and never be invited over again, and immediately headed for the kitchen, where she could heard Minerva bustling about.

As always, Minerva looked well put together, with her glasses perched primly on the bridge of her nose, a stern look upon her face, and her slightly greying black hair back in a tight bun. Not a single strand had come loose from the bun, despite all the chores Minerva performed on the day-to-day basis, and Rita found herself wondering if Minerva gave her hair a stern talking to each morning to discourage the hairs from escaping. She found herself subconsciously straightening out her coiled hair, and checking her skirts for wrinkles, as Minerva's piercing gaze often made even the most confident person feel slightly self conscious and chastised for being untidy.

Perhaps that was why she'd never gotten married, Rita considered. Minerva was not a particularly attractive woman, maybe she'd been striking when she was younger, but she was tall, and thin as a rail, and had a very intimidating manner, so that one was always reminded of a school marm about to scold a naughty pupil. In her youth, that was the exact profession she'd had, first teaching at an academy for girls in London, even going on to work at a university, and later for the children of Lyndegate Brooks, but she'd retired a few years back. She lived at Godric's Hollow with Albus, who was a distant relation, and together they worked to keep the property running. But they were both getting on with age, and Rita often wondered how they managed.

"Good afternoon, Minerva!" Rita said, though she knew the other woman had heard her come in.

"Good afternoon, Rita," Minerva replied, placing down the jug of fresh milk next to the steaming teapot already set on the table, and wiping her hands on her apron. Rita was uncertain whether she should be embarrassed that Minerva had been keen enough to know that Rita would drop in for tea as to have it already prepared.

Rita folded her hands in front of her, trying to come up with a reason for her appearance. "It's so hot in town," Rita started, fanning herself dramatically. "I thought I'd walk up here to pay you a visit, as I thought your house, what with the orchard and all, would be cooler than down there. I hope you don't mind."

Rita could have sworn she saw Minerva's mouth twitch, but she'd blinked, so she wasn't certain. Nevertheless, the older woman's eyes twinkled in a way that told Rita she was not fooled by the story at all. "I was just going to make myself a cup of tea. Would you like to join me?" This was once again merely a show of politeness, as both women knew why Rita had shown up.

"Yes, how kind of you," Rita said, already pushing past Minerva and plopping down ungracefully into a chair. She greedily reached for a little cake, taking a bite out of it. Minerva was known all around for her baking, which some said even rivaled Prissy Elvington's, the Elvingtons having been in the bakery business for generations.

Rita impatiently, though hopefully with an air of calm, sat back and made some small talk, hoping to get the story out of Minerva without having to bring it up herself. She talked about her book, and the recent scandal she'd caused when she spotted Rodolphus Lestrange walking around with a much younger Bellatrix Black. Minerva merely hummed, making few comments here and there, till Rita could no longer stand it.

"So," Rita began, keeping her focus on her second cup of tea, adding yet another sugar cube in. "I saw Albus this afternoon heading out of town on his buggy."

Minerva made a sound, though whether it was to agree or disagree, it was hard to tell. Her mouth was hidden behind the rim of her cup as she took a sip.

"He was headed toward Ottery St. Catchpole," Rita pressed.

"Biscuit?" Minerva offered, holding out a plate of her famous biscuits. Rita took one, never quite able to resist something sweet.

"He was wearing his best blue suit," Rita continued.

"Was he?" Minerva replied.

" _Minnie_ …"

Minerva allowed herself a small smile now, but finally conceded. Rita was likely to find out sooner, or later, and better to tell her now, than to hear one of Rita's fictional versions spread around later. "Albus has gone to town to pick up an orphan boy coming in from London on the evening train."

Rita couldn't have been more surprised if she'd been told pigs could fly. "An orphan boy?" She gasped. She'd never pictured Minerva as the motherly type. As for Albus, he was such a silent man, and when he did talk, he said such strange things that she often thought him a simpleton. "Whatever for?"

"It's something we've been considering for a while now. Over Christmas holidays we paid a visit to the Abbott's, and Diane told us she was going to London to pick out a little girl for herself. You know she and Albert have been having a difficult time having their own, so they've decided adoption is the next best option. The Abbotts have some relation in London, who will help Diane with the whole process. We thought it would be a good idea to get a boy for ourselves, as Albus is getting on in age, and he'll be needing help around the farm. Plus, having an extra set of hands will free up more time for Albus to work on his research."

"Yes, but couldn't you just ask one of the boys from town to help? You know the Weasley's have no shortage of children, and Augusta Longbottom's son, Frank, is about eleven, definitely old enough to lend a helping hand."

"We discussed the possibility, but the eldest Weasley is only five years of age, and ever since Franklin senior passed, it's been Frank up to tend to the Longbottom land, so he's unavailable. And lord knows that Wallburga would never willingly allow one of her sons to work on a farm." Minerva and Rita shared a significant look, both women rolling their eyes at the snobbiness of the richer families in town.

"Well, what about hiring out? I know I heard the Lupin's hired a boy to help the out since their son is always so sickly," Rita said.

"Yes, well, Albus was dead set on adopting, and you know how he gets once he sets his mind to something," Minerva sighed, staring at her cup.

"Yes, but an _orphan_ ," Rita pushed, her voice spitting the word with all the horror and disgust one might construe to having to change a soiled diaper. "You don't know where he's been!"

Minerva just held back the urge to roll her eyes, instead narrowing them at Rita. "Well, it's not as if we're adopting from the continent, or, gods forbid, the States! He'll be coming from London, so at least we know he's of good stock. A boy of eleven; we figured that was a good age. Not too young to help, but not too old to learn."

Rita still looked unconvinced. "Orphans are an absolutely awful sort, greedy, untrustworthy, deceitful. Why, only last week Dolores Umbridge told me a tale of a former pupil of her's who was an orphan. Apparently, the boy tried to burn down the school house during break, and very nearly succeeded!"

Minerva rolled her eyes. "One knows better than to trust the judgement of Dolores Umbridge in regards to children. She hates all of them, even the McKinnon bunch, and they're the one of the best bred family in all of Lyndegate Brooks."

"I admit there's truth in your statement," Rita submitted regretfully, but she was not yet done. "But I heard yet another tale from Katherine Podmore, that one of her sister's neighbors adopted a girl, an _orphan girl._ She offered to do the baking one day, as a thank you to the family for adopting her, and the next day they all died! It was later discovered the powdered sugar was mixed with arsenic!"

Minerva bit her lip to keep from laughing. Rita always found the most fantastical stories to spread. "Well, we're not getting a girl," she replied simply, picking up the empty cups and placing them in the sink for a wash.

"Fine, don't listen to me," Rita said, standing imperiously and holding up her hands in surrender. "But don't come running to _me_ when something horrendous happens."

"Don't worry," Minerva replied dryly. "I'm more likely to call George Finnegan should the boy set fire to our house, as he is the fire marshal."

"Ohhhhh," Rita growled, turning on her heel and walking from the house. Mark her words, this whole orphan escapade would end terribly, and then she'd have the satisfaction of wiping the superior look off Minerva's face when it all fell apart.

Truth be told, she had no idea how Minerva and Albus would fare with a child in the house. Sure, Minerva had been a teacher, and thus around children, but she was not exactly the motherly type. Nor had Rita ever seen Albus interact with children before. In a way, she almost felt pity for the child. To have to put up with Minerva and Albus everyday for years… Rita didn't think she could manage it.

She decided she would head to the mercantile where she could quickly spread the news. She simply could not wait to see the looks on everyone's faces when they heard the tale! But little did Rita know that upon his arrival at the Ottery St. Catchpole train station, Albus would find a surprise that would have made Rita's gossip all the more juicy.

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 **P.S. I am currently looking for a beta, so if anyone has a rec, or would like to volunteer, please PM me. Thank you!**


	2. Albus Dumbledore is Surprised

**Author's Note:**

 **Much, much thanks to my amazing beta, hurricanehairandemeraldeyes, for helping me make this chapter flow _significantly_ better than it did in the first draft. **

**I also just want to point out that in this fic, Godric's Hollow is the name of a _house_. I recognize that canonically it is a village, but I changed things around here and figured it was okay as this is an AU story. Apologies to anyone who was confused. **

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**Disclaimer: Everything here is inspired by, or taken from the amazing minds of the lovey ladies, Lucy Maud Montgomery and Joanne K. Rowling**

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 _ **Albus Dumbledore is Surprised**_

 _'A child of about eleven, garbed in a very short, very tight, very ugly dress of yellowed white wincey. She wore a faded brown sailor hat, and beneath the hat, extending down her back, were two braids of ver thick, decidedly red hair.'_

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Albus Dumbledore found himself thoroughly enjoying his drive to Ottery St. Catchpole. It wasn't a drive he got to take often, as Minerva herself often went while he worked in the fields. And besides, the primary reason other Lyndegate Brooks residents came into the larger town was to pick up their weekly goods, which was not something Minerva and Albus had to worry about often, having their own cows and chickens, and Minerva's garden to lean on.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, breathing in the fresh air. He could smell it, springtime, his favorite season, which was multitude of smells one could never quite define in a single word. It was the sweetness of blossoms accompanied with the sharpness of fresh grass. It was the heaviness of rain, mixed with the lightness of the river. It was Minerva's baking combined with the hay in the barn.

When he opened his eyes, it was to gaze upon the fine greenery around him, everything in bloom as Persephone made her way back from Hades. Albus had spent many years in his youth in London, and while he had enjoyed the bustle and energy of the city, he had always longed for the countryside of his childhood. There were few places that were as beautiful as Lyndegate Brooks, in his opinion, at springtime.

The town of Ottery St. Catchpole was not a very large one, though it was much bigger than Lyndegate Brooks, which was more of a village. If anything, what made Ottery St. Catchpole more metropolitan was that it had a train station, part of the line that ran from London to Gloucester. The people were kind folk, and it was a young town, with large families. As he passed the Hog's Head Inn, formerly owned by his late brother, he spotted the new owners, the Weasleys, opening the downstairs pub for the day. He waved at Arthur, the father, and watched as his two small sons ran around the man's legs, their bright hair flashing in the sunshine as they chased one another around the yard.

Albus had always had a fondness for children, but had never gotten around to having any of his own. In his youth, he'd been far too ambitious, spending many waking hours in the library of his university, and by the time he was middle aged, when all of his friends had started their own families,, he had simply given up on settling down. This was part of the reason he was so adamant that he and Minerva adopt an orphan instead of hiring a local boy. Additionally, he, himself, knew what it was like to grow up without a parent, as his father had been imprisoned when Albus was a young man, but to have no parents at all… he pitied the poor creatures. And besides, both he and Minerva were getting on in age, so it would be nice to have some young blood running around the house, keeping them from falling behind on the times.

He stopped his carriage outside of the train station, and loosely tied his horse to a nearby tree. He found he was nervous. Though he had a fondness for children, it was always from a distance. He had rarely spent an extended period of time around children, much less been alone with one, and he was not quite sure how he would interact with this boy once he arrived. Should he shake the child's hand, or wave? Should he try to initiate conversation first, or wait for the child to say something?

He took a breath and dusted off his pants, before walking up the stairs to the station. The sun had started its descent in the sky, causing his shadow to elongate as he walked along the platform. Sitting on a wooden bench outside the station-house was a young girl. She was quietly waiting for someone, kicking her legs lazily as she clutched an old carpet bag on her lap. Albus paid the girl little notice, missing the giant hopeful eyes staring up at him. He stepped inside the small reception, and walked up to an information desk, where a young woman was sitting. He knew her to be Dorcas Meadowes, and they greeted one another familiarly, going through the motions of polite interaction and small talk.

"What can I do for you today, Mr. Dumbledore?" Dorcas asked politely.

"Well, you see Miss Meadowes, I'm here about a boy. A little orphan boy. He was supposed to come in on the five o'clock train with Mrs. Abbott," Albus replied.

"Oh, I just saw Mrs. Abbott!" Dorcas replied, smiling. "But she didn't come with two boys. No, she had two _girls_ with her."

"Girls?" Albus said, his voice filled with surprise.

"Yes, sir," Dorcas said. "One about the age of five - such a cute little thing, with the biggest brown eyes and two little dimples! - and another of about eleven. Mrs. Abbott said that you were coming to get the older girl. I asked the girl if she wanted to come wait inside, but she insisted she stay outside." Dorcas leaned forward, her gaze conspiratorial. "Said it gave her more 'scope for the imagination'." Dorcas raised her dark eyebrows in the way people do when discussing topics they find unusual.

"A girl?" Albus said again. He was not quite sure what to think. "But we're supposed to be getting a boy!"

Dorcas shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know what to tell you, Mr. Dumbledore. But the girl can't stay _here_ overnight!"

Albus slowly stepped away from the window. Well, wasn't this quite the pickle! When Minerva heard when Diane had done, she'd be steaming. But Albus agreed with Dorcas, that either way the orphan girl could not stay at the station. She'd have to come back to Godric's Hollow with him, and then Minerva would sort everything out.

Dorcas pointed to where the girl was, and Albus walked outside in that direction, until he reached the little girl on the bench he had absentmindedly ignored a few moments earlier. He could hardly believe such a petite thing was eleven years of age! A tiny thing she was, all skin and bones and knobby knees, dressed shabbily in a simple dress. A straw hat that had gone out of style over a century ago, and was far too large for her, was sitting on her head. Her red hair was done in a pair of twin braids, though the russet curls appeared to be rebelling against orderliness, and her eyes were wide orbs of a brilliant green he'd never seen on a human before.

She glanced up as he came to a stop in front of her bench, her big eyes sparkling as she smiled widely at him, her pale peach skin flushing with pleasure. "Are you Mr. Dumbledore of Godric's Hollow?" She asked in a voice that had a musical quality to it.

Albus was speechless for a few moments, uncertain what to say or do with himself. Eventually, he nodded, and the girl's grin grew even wider.

"Oh, it's so wonderful to meet you!" She gushed, seizing his hand and shaking it furiously. "Oh, you just simply have no clue how thrilled I am! Why, I feel as if I've waited for this day my whole life! I _have_ waited for this day my whole life! Madame Bones used to always tell me that no one would ever want a girl like me, but then Mrs. Abbott came and said you wanted a girl, so Madame Bones figured I would do, and I _promise_ you sir, I will be the best daughter you could ever ask for!"

All during this long speech, she'd continued to shake his hand. Albus felt like he was getting whiplash, the girl talked faster than anyone he'd encountered in his many years. He slowly and gently extracted his hand from her grasp, and tried to meet her enthusiasm with a kind smile. "I hope you weren't waiting too long."

"Oh, not so very long, I s'pose. I feared for a bit that you weren't going to show, but that kind lady at the desk told me that our train came in early, so I supposed you were just going to show up when the train was originally going to come in. But, anyway, I'm not much good at determining time. You see, I was distracted by that _marvelous_ tree over there!" She gestured to a cherry tree in full blossom across from the station. "Isn't it just _marvelous_? And I thought to myself, why, if you didn't show up and I had to wait here all night, I could simply go over to that tree, climb it, and sleep on that rather sturdy looking limb in the middle just there. I'm rather good at climbing trees, you know, best in the whole orphanage, even better than that smelly Peter Pettigrew-" She wrinkled up her pert, little nose when she said the boy's name, her tone filled with disgust. "-but he was rather fat to be climbing trees. But, anyway, never mind _him_ , but I was sitting here, just on this bench, and I thought it would be simply lovely to sleep in a cherry blossom tree in the middle of spring right under the stars! I could go to sleep looking at their beautiful twinkling lights, and then I'd wake up just as the dew fell, and get to see the sunrise and light up my beautiful cherry tree home in all it's magnificent glory, and it'd be like something from a fairytale, like I'm Snow White, or Princess Aurora!"

Albus blinked. "Well, we best be getting on, then," he said simply, uncertain how to respond. "May I take your bag?" He enquired.

"Oh, no thank you," the girl replied, both hands clutching the handle of the bag. "It's awfully nice of you to offer, but the handle is broken so that if you don't hold it the right way, all my worldly possessions would fall out. It's not too heavy, though. I can manage since I know the right way to hold it."

Albus led the girl over to the buggy, and lifted the girl up onto the bench.

"Wow, she's beautiful!" The girl exclaimed, leaning forward to lay a hand on the horse's flank. "What's her name?"

"Oh, well, she doesn't have a name," Albus replied as he pulled on the reigns. "We mostly just call her 'Girl'."

The orphan girl frowned. "How unoriginal," she pouted. "I shall think up something better suited for such a fine beast."

The orphan girl frowned. "How unoriginal," she pouted. "I shall think up something better suited for such a fine beast."

They started out of Ottery St. Catchpole, and back toward home. The girl was quiet while she thought up a name for the horse, and Albus found he missed her rapid chatter. It was a change from the normal silence he was used to. Sure, he and Minerva talked, but not often, and certainly not in the rapid fire, enthusiastic way the girl did.

"I think we ought to call her 'Fawkes'," the girl finally said.

"Fawkes?" Albus repeated.

"Yes," the girl nodded eagerly. "Because her beautiful red coat is like a phoenix's, and she's fast as one too!"

"Fawkes," Albus repeated, testing it out. "I like it!"

"Good. Me too!" She paused to beam up at Albus, and he felt the urge to smile back at the girl. "You have no idea how excited I am that I'm going to be living with you. The orphanage is an awful place, one of the worst I've been. Absolutely no scope for the imagination. But here, I can just tell I'll have so much inspiration for imagining, and I'll do my very, very best to be a good daughter for you!" And just like that, Albus felt the urge to smile fade away.

There was another short moment of silence as she took in the sights, before the girl gasped dramatically. "How lovely!" She exclaimed, glancing at a lake to their left. It was a rather nice looking lake, with a small collection of white birches along the far bank, the water reflecting their image so that it appeared to be a collection of upside-down birches. The water itself was a beautiful clear blue in the sunshine, shimmering like someone had covered it in glitter. Chunks of reeds, and a small patch of waterlilies floated lazily along the edge. A bevy of swans gracefully sailed through the water, their long necks raised imperiously as they carved their path along the surface. "What's it called?" The girl asked, enchanted, her eyes still on the water.

"It doesn't really have a name," Albus said, starting to gain his footing around the girl. He was slowly feeling more and more comfortable around her. "It's good for catching lake trout, and the townspeople have the annual church picnic there." Upon encountering the girl's disappointed look, Albus said, "I s'pose it's usually called the Great Lake."

The girl sighed heavily, and Albus fought back the urge to laugh yet again. Clearly he had not impressed her with the name, and he had a feeling the girl would be despairing about the lack of originality of the Lyndegate Brooks residents.

"Well, I think it should be called… The Lake of Shining Waters!"

Albus glanced at the girl and grinned. "What a very original name." She beamed back at him before turning back to the water. They passed a few more seconds in silence, as the girl was still in rapture of the water, and he couldn't resist saying, "You know, I've often myself thought there were mermaids in the water."

The girl's head whipped around so fast, one of her braids smacked her in the cheek. Her luminous green eyes were filled with wonder, and her cheeks were flushed with glee. "Really?" she gasped.

Albus nodded, hoping a mischievous look hadn't made its way upon his face. "There have been times when I've fished in the lake, and pulled up all kinds of inexplicable things. One time, I pulled up a hairbrush!"

"A hairbrush?"

"Yes! I was mighty confused, and didn't quite know what to do with it. I decided to test it out, so I laid it on the banks of the river early one morning, and hid behind one of the birches to watch. As I stood there, I saw a hand snake out of the water and pull the brush back in!"

The girl stared at him, amazement on her face. "I wish I could've seen one," she said.

"If you go to the lake with an offering, you just might."

Lily contemplated his advice as they passed the McKinnon property. A Victorian house, one of the grandest in town, aside from the collection on Highpoint Road, where all the old families lived. Albus had always thought the McKinnon property was a pretty one, with a wide green lawn, and arbors covered in roses of varying shades. Albus pointed to it, and said, "That's Orchard Point, the McKinnon property. They're good people; Matthew McKinnon is a successful man, and his wife is a well-bred woman from somewhere around York."

"Do they have any children around my age?" The girl asked, her eyes soaking in the picturesque scene.

"Yes. They have a few children, but I think they have a daughter around your age. Her name is Marlene. Very kind girl, but quiet." Kind, but quiet was the perfect way to describe the Lyndegate Brooks girls. None of them were like the creature in his buggy, who was so filled with energy and curiosity. This girl was full of original thoughts, and he wondered if young Marlene had ever had a thought her mother hadn't programmed her to think.

"I've never had a friend before," the girl said, looking back at Orchard Slope as it faded behind them. "I've always longed for a bosom friend, but they're ever so hard to find. Especially a bosom friend who's also a kindred spirit. I wonder if Marlene will be mine. None of the girls in the orphanage wanted to be my bosom friend because…" She sighed, and grabbed the end of one of her braids and held it up for Albus to see. "What color would you call this?"

"Why, that's red," Albus replied. He'd always rather liked red hair. He, himself, had had auburn hair in his younger years, before his hair had grown long and white, his beard following soon after. The girl's hair was a peculiar red, a mix of bronze, gold, and auburn, that sparkled in the sunlight. It reminded him slightly of Ariana's hair, making him feel a spike of sadness and regret.

The girl sighed again, and continued. "Yes. It's red. It's a life-long sorrow of mine. The other children at the orphanage said it was a curse to have red hair, and they refused to be friends with someone who was likely to have the soul of the devil in her. I often like to imagine I have a head of beautiful blonde curls that shines like gold in the sunshine, and an alabaster brow, and a dress of brocade with puffed sleeves… but then I catch a glimpse of the red out of the corner of my eye, or in a looking glass, and I just feel a complete loss of hope for ever being devastatingly beautiful. Would you rather be devastatingly beautiful, dazzlingly clever, or angelically good?"

"Well, I guess I'd want to be dazzlingly clever," Albus replied.

"I can never quite decide," the girl said, cocking her head to the side as she considered her own question. "Though, I s'pose I'll never be angelically good. No one with red hair ever could be, and besides, Madame Bones used to always tell me I was a most wicked sprite. I vexed her quite dearly, I did, though I never _meant_ to vex her. I just always would get lost in my imaginings and forget to do my chores, or go to sleep on time. There was this one time when I- Oh my! Mr. Dumbledore, oh Mr. Dumbledore! Look, look!"

Albus jumped at the sudden change in direction, glancing at the child to make sure she wasn't injured, but she was just staring with an expression of dumbstruck awe. Albus glanced around, finally taking note of where they were.

They were passing under the copse of apple trees lining the road, planted years ago by the original settlers. All the trees leaned inwards, creating a natural arch for carriages and cabs to pass under. The townsfolk liked to say that the trees grew so heavy with their delicious apples during harvest season, that over the years they had started to lean over due to the weight. Albus had always particularly enjoyed passing under the arch, as the sunlight passing through the branches creating interesting shadows and tricks of light. As the sun had begun its descent on the return journey, the sky was awash with a collection of colors and its light reflected off the white blossoms, giving them purple, pink, orange, yellow, and indigo tinges.

The girl was staring once again, her face all aglow. "What do you call this pass?"

Albus simply smiled at the girl, his way of letting her know it wasn't anything as creative as she could come up with. "The Avenue."

The girl grinned back at him, glad to have found someone who appeared to understand her so easily. "I think it should be called… The White Way of Delight."

"Very poetic," Albus replied, earning another smile from the girl. He found he rather liked her smile. It was kind, and filled with an unfiltered kind of joy that was rather refreshing. A thought suddenly struck him, though, that she would not be staying, and he found himself most disappointed by this prospect. The girl had already won his heart, and the thought of her going away brought him pain.

"Have you always lived in Lyndegate Brooks, Mr. Dumbledore?" The girl asked.

Albus nodded. "Yes. Godric's Hollow has been in my family for generations. My great-grandfather built it himself years and years ago."

"Godric's Hollow?"

"Oh, ehm, that's the name of my family's cottage."

"A cottage!" The girl gasped. "It truly is like something from a fairytale! I've always wanted to live in a cottage. Doesn't it just sound so romantic to say 'I live in a cottage'?"

"I s'pose so."

"I've never lived in a cottage. Oh this is so exciting! I never dreamed I'd ever be so lucky as to have a family, and more so, a family who live in a cottage in such a beautiful place! I have pinched myself so many times today that my arm is probably a mess of bruises. But I have to pinch myself just to make sure I'm not dreaming all this, but even if this is all a dream, I'm glad because it's brought me more delight than anything ever has! I've always wanted to live in the country, ever since I read _Pride and Prejudice_. Have you ever read Jane Austen?"

"Yes, I have."

"And do you like her?"

"I do. Minerva is particularly fond of her, but Minerva's a big reader for sure."

"Is Minerva your wife?" The girl asked.

"No, Minerva is an relative of mine," Albus replied.

"Do you have a wife?"

Albus chuckled. "I do not."

"A husband?"

Albus shook his head.

"Well, why not?" She asked.

Albus was silent for a moment. People had often asked him why he choose to stay a bachelor, but never in so direct a way.

"I'm sorry. That was awfully rude of me. I did not mean to offend you, I'm just a curious person. Madame Bones always told me I needed to learn to shut my mouth and stop talking so much. 'Children ought to be seen and not heard' she always used to say, but I hate that statement. Children should be able to talk, we're humans with our own thoughts and opinions, and they matter just as much as any adult's does. Still, I _do_ talk an awful lot. Does my talking bother you? If it does, I can shut up. It takes a great deal of effort, but when I set my mind to it, I can usually accomplish it."

Albus shook his head. "I don't mind your talking, nor am I offended. I was just thinking of an answer." He paused briefly before continuing. "I s'pose I never got married because I was always too busy. Or, at least I always thought I was too busy."

"Do you wish you'd gotten married?"

"I'm not sure. I've never given much thought to romantic love, and now I've got Minerva to keep me company."

"Is Minerva married?"

Albus chuckled. "No, she is not, but I don't know why. That is a question better asked to her."

They were coming over the hill toward Godric's Hollow, about a mile out. "We're nearly there," Albus said. "It's just over-"

"No, don't tell me!" The girl cried. "I'd like to guess, if you don't mind." Albus nodded, and clutched the reigns. They were passing Miss Rita Skeeter's house, and Albus thought he glimpsed a curtain in the front window moving as they passed by. He chuckled softly to himself, wondering how soon it would be before the gossip showed up at their door, demanding to see the child.

They crested the small hill, and in the distance, lit up by the faint glow of the gaslights through the window, was Godric's Hollow. Albus turned his head, as he wanted to catch the girl's expression. He was not disappointed as it radiated delight and excitement. "It looks like a gingerbread house!" She giggled. "Though hopefully it's not like _Hansel and Gretel."_ She glanced slyly at Albus. "You're not a wizard who likes to eat children, are you?"

Albus chuckled and shook his head. "There aren't any self-proclaimed witches about, but I've always suspected Augusta Longbottom to be one," he told the girl, winking at her.

Thoughtfully, she stated, "I think I'd like to be a witch. Image how much fun it must be to perform spells and fly on a broom. It's possible I've got witch blood in me, as witches are always in alliance with the devil, and I am one of the devil's spawn. If nothing else, at least I look the part. The other girls used to tell me witches had green eyes, because they're like a cat's, and cats are often companions to witches. I'd rather like to have a cat. If it was a boy and he was black, I'd call him 'Salem', and if it was a girl and she had stripes, I'd call her 'Tiger Lily'. Don't you think those are good names?"

"The best."

They were driving up to Godric's Hollow now, getting closer, and Albus saw the girl taking in every detail. "I am absolutely shaking, Mr. Dumbledore. I don't know if I'll be able to contain my delight. I am full to bursting. I never thought I'd have a real home, and now I do, with you and Minerva, and this wonderful house in their beautiful village, why I could cry right now. To have been given so much unexpectedly fills me with so much gratitude and excitement, and I think I have overwhelmed all my emotions, but I would not trade this moment for anything else!"

The girl's cheeks flushed again, and she looped her arm through Albus's, leaning her head against his shoulder. Once again, he felt a pang in his chest when he remembered Minerva would likely send the girl back to the orphanage. He wondered if there was any way he could persuade the older woman to let the girl stay, as she had already captured his heart.


	3. Minerva McGonagall is Surprised

**Author's Note:**

 **Lemme just say I am sorry for the super, super, SUPER delayed uploading. It's been an insane few weeks, and I've been busy with university, having friends com visit, family drama, internship applications... the list goes on. Hopefully it won't take as long to upload again, but no promises *shrugs*. Thank you, as always, to the most amazing beta,** **hurricanehairandemeraldeyes** **for your help and patience during the past month and a half, or so. Definitely go check her out!**

 **Also, orphan asylum = orphanage. Lily is not insane, just to clear up any confusion.**

 **Disclaimer: Everything here is inspired by, or taken from the amazing minds of the lovey ladies, Lucy Maud Montgomery and Joanne K. Rowling**

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 ** _Minerva McGonagall is Surprised_**

 _"'Well now, she's a real interesting little thing,' persisted Matthew. 'You should have heard her talk coming from the station.'_

 _'Oh, she can talk fast enough. I saw that at once. It's nothing in her favour, either. I don't like children who have so much to say. I don't want an orphan girl, and if I did she isn't the style I'd pick out.'"_

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Minerva was nervously pacing the kitchen. As a rule, Minerva didn't let emotions influence her behavior. She was a woman who was very practical, and placed a great deal of confidence in her reasoning abilities. It was what had made her such a respected teacher, as well as a fantastic cook; she never let anything penetrate deep enough to affect her ability to perform well. That said, there were times when Minerva's emotions got the best of her, as they were at that moment.

The sun had set a few minutes prior, casting the cottage in darkness, only the light from the gas lanterns and some candles were providing light. On the old square wooden table sat a modest dinner of roast chicken, bread baked that morning, and fresh vegetables, all laid out nicely on three separate dishes. The kitchen was kept warm from the fire going in the open stove, and the scent of blossoms drifted through the cracks in the doors and windows, offering a welcoming atmosphere.

Minerva resisted the urge to go glance at the old grandfather clock her great-grandfather had carved in the corner of the parlor, the next room over. She shook her head at her ridiculousness. I _t's only an orphan boy. Why should I be nervous? For god's sake, Minerva, you are a grown woman! Stop acting like a frivolous girl-child._

She nearly jumped out of her seat when she heard the sound of wooden wheels over the dirt, and the neigh of the old mare accompanying it. She stopped herself from rushing to the door, though she did stand up and brush her hands over her dress and hair, quickly making herself presentable.

The front door opened, the sound of shoes against the wood floors echoed in the entryway, before Minerva heard Albus say, "Through there" and the footsteps started in her direction.

She paused when, through the archway, a little girl in a skimpy dress and an old fashioned hat stood before her. She blinked, wondering if the dim lighting and her weak eyesight were betraying her, but when she looked again, the girl was still here. Her eyes shot to Albus, who was standing behind the girl, a good few feet taller than her.

"What's going on here?" Minerva asked, feeling greatly confused. Her eyes flashed back down to the girl again, briefly, before shooting back up to Albus. "Where's the boy?"

"There was no boy," Albus replied, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Only her."

"What do you mean, _there was no boy_? We specifically told Diane that we wanted a boy!"

Albus shrugged, walking around the child. Minerva followed Albus's movements, not noticing how the smile, which had been spread wide across the girl's face since she'd entered the cottage, was gradually fading. "I asked Miss Meadowes the same question, and she told me that Mrs. Abbott got off the train with two girls, and that she was for us." Albus frowned to himself, realising he had never gotten the girl's name.

Minerva scowled, placing her hands on her hips. "Well isn't this wonderful!" She exclaimed in frustration.

She turned at the sound of a thump to notice that the child had fallen to her knees, her face filled with horror and despair. Her huge eyes, that even in the dim lighting Minerva had noticed were the most peculiar green, were glistening, and the girl's voice was thick with unshed tears. "You don't want me," she cried. "You don't want me! You wanted a boy instead! Oh, I just knew it was too good to be true! How could anybody ever want me? Madame Bones told me not to get my hopes up, but I did anyway. I feel as though I might just drown in tears!" She buried her face in her hands, and Minerva felt a note of panic. She had dealt with children before, in but their crying had always made her uncomfortable.

"Oh, now," Minerva said briskly, her temper turning sharp at the display. "Get up off your knees and stop your crying. It's simply been a mistake. You'll stay the night, and then we'll take you back in the morning."

The girl did get up off her knees, but tears continued to run down her face. "I don't know that I can stop crying," the girl said. "I am in the depths of despair! Haven't you ever been in the depths of despair?"

"No, I haven't."

"Have you ever _imagined_ being in the depths of despair?"

Minerva sighed heavily. "No. I haven't the time for imagining."

The girl shot her a scornful look, her eyes even more brilliant due to her tears. "Then you cannot begin to understand how I feel, much less tell me to stop crying. You can't imagine what it's like to be a little orphan girl, all alone in the world with nobody to love her, only to be told she is going to be taken to a home. But then, after seeing the most beautiful place she had ever seen, and discovering the Lake of Shining Waters, and the White Way of Delight, and a cottage like something from a fairytale, only to be told that you are not wanted- why, it's the most tragical thing to ever happen to me!" Her cheeks were flushed after this declaration, her hands balled in fists at her sides, and her thin limbs were shaking with a mixture of frustration and anguish.

Minerva turned to Albus in confusion. "The White Way of what?"

The girl also shifted her eyes to Albus, though they were filled with accusation and disappointment as she glared at the older man. "I wish you hadn't shown me this wonderful place, and just left me at the station instead! I would rather have not seen such wonderful things at all, then to have almost all of my dreams come true, only to be told that they really will not be coming true at all!" Albus had to look away, feeling utterly ashamed under the girl's heartbroken stare.

Minerva watched as all the anger drained from the girl's body, leaving behind just her despair. Glancing back at Albus's own depressed façade, Minerva felt a slight twinge of regret. For a small moment, though too small to make a great impact, Minerva considered keeping the girl. She quickly squashed that idea. It was far too impractical; such a girl would be of no use to Albus. She took a breath, realizing she alone would have to set her foot down. "Stop crying this instant. You're not going to be tossed out tonight. We will need to talk to Mrs. Abbott tomorrow anyway to figure out what went wrong before we can do anything. Sit down, and eat your supper before it gets cold."

The girl took a deep breath and wiped at her eyes, before nodding. She placed her old carpet bag down, and sat down in the chair Minerva directed her to, Albus and Minerva copying her movements. When all three had sat down, and begun to pick at their plates, Minerva asked, "What is your name?"

The girl peered at Minerva through long, thick lashes clumped together by her tears. She hesitated for a moment before saying, "Could you call me Elizabeth?"

Minerva raised an eyebrow. "Is your _name_ Elizabeth?"

The girl bit her lip, and shook her head. "No… but I'd rather you'd call me that."

Minerva sighed heavily. Dear lord, this child was already pushing her buttons. "I asked for your name, not what you wish to be called."

"But what does it matter, if I'm only going to be here for the night?" The girl asked. Albus tried to hide a chuckle behind his glass, but Minerva still glared at him. He quickly tucked back into his meal. Minerva then turned her glare on the child, who sighed and gave up the game.

"Lily. My name is Lily Olivia Evans." She paused considering, before adding in, "But if you must call me Lily, please be sure to spell Lily with only two Ls and not three."

Minerva gave the girl a bewildered look. "What does it matter how it's spelled?"

The girl shrugged. "Lily with two Ls looks nicer than with three. And when you say a word, you can often picture how it would be spelled in your mind. L-I-L-Y is much more distinguished than L-I-L-L-Y. So, if you could just call me Lily with two Ls, I _s'pose_ I could reconcile myself to not being called Elizabeth."

Minerva resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. In fact, she felt slightly dizzy with how quickly the child spoke. She'd had encounters with little girls who spoke a lot, but none as much, or as quickly, or in such a strange manner as this girl did. Minerva reckoned she'd spent too much time around the Lyndegate Brooks girls, who strictly followed the rule that children should be seen, but not heard.

"Well, Lily with two Ls, why was there a mix up? Were there no boys at the orphan asylum?"

Lily shook her head. "Nope. There were plenty, but Mrs. Abbott clearly said she wanted two girls. Madame Bones figured I was good enough, as I'm eleven years of age, and rather strong, though I don't look it. I am rather dreadfully thin, aren't I?"

"Did Mrs. Abbott bring back any other children?"

"She brought back little Anne Jones for herself. Anne is such a pretty little thing, with pretty brown curls, and two dimples, one on each cheek. I always wanted dimples." The girl pouted a bit at her own lack of dimples. She peered up at Minerva through her eyelashes again. "Would you keep me if I was pretty, and had brown curls and dimples?"

Minerva shook her head. "No, because we wanted a boy." Lily sighed heavily, and went back to pushing her food around on her plate. It was then that Minerva noticed the girl had not eaten a single morsel in front of her. "Why are you not eating?"

"It's a lovely meal!" The girl said quickly. "And I'm sure it's absolutely delicious. Carrots and snap peas are my favorite! Only, I just can't eat. I'm too depressed to even _imagine_ eating, much less actually do it. I feel as thought I'll never be happy again! Or eat again, even if it were chocolate ice cream! I've never even had chocolate ice cream, and I've always _dreamed_ of eating it, but I don't think I would be able to eat a single scoop with how forlorn I am right now."

Minerva sighed yet again. The child simply wore her out! She turned to look at Albus, accusation in her eyes. He shrugged sheepishly. "She must be tired. So much traveling today… Why don't you put her to bed, Minerva? I'll clean up here."

Minerva nodded, and pushed back from her chair. "Come, Lily. Grab your things." She waited for Lily to pick up her bag before leading the girl up the stairs.

Their cottage was not big when compared to some others in town, but there were four bedrooms, one for Minerva, another for Albus, and then the guest room. Minerva would never dream of putting the child in the guest room as it contained some of the nicest furniture in the entire house, so the fourth room, the one in the gabled corner, would have to do.

Lily followed Minerva, dragging her feet. She felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and her despair was dragging her down even more. She was anxious to get into the room so that she could cry in private. She was further depressed when she saw the gabled room, a rather empty space consisting only of a woven rug, white walls, a rickety old three-legged table, and a small iron bed with plain white sheets. Lily's mind was already working, imagining all the ways she could decorate the place, bring colour and life into the room, but she shut down her ideas immediately, a sob trapped in her throat.

"You have your own night clothes?" Minerva asked her.

Lily nodded, afraid to open her mouth lest the sob should escape her. "Well, then, put them on. I'll be back in a few minutes to get the candle." Minerva turned and left the room closing the door behind her.

Lily was unable to prevent her tears from falling now, her cheeks dampening as she slowly undressed and pulled on her skimpy nightgown. Most nights, she liked to imagine herself in a gorgeous gown befitting a princess, a gown of frills and laces, made of silk perhaps, so gorgeous it would make even the moon jealous of its white purity. But tonight she was unable to do so, far too upset to think of anything other than her grim reality.

She scurried under the covers, burrowing into the sheets and pulling them over her head. A few moments later, she heard a knock on the door, and Minerva came in for the candle.

The older woman paused in the doorway, wondering if she should say something comforting to the girl, but settled on simply saying, "Goodnight."

A bundle of curly red hair and a glistening pale face shot up from under the sheets, and glared at the woman. "How can you possibly say that?" The girl cried. "When you have to know this is the worst night I have ever had?" Just as quickly as she had popped up, she disappeared back under the covers.

Without a word, Minerva closed the door behind her, and walked down the stairs to the parlor. Albus was sitting in his favorite chair, smoking his pipe. It was a habit Minerva despised, and she would often chastise Albus for bringing it out, much less smoking it in the house, but after the day they had had, she supposed he needed the calming effects of nicotine.

"Well, isn't this a pretty mess?" Minerva sighed, sinking into her rocking chair and picking up the novel she was currently reading. "This is what happens when we ask someone else to do our bidding for us. Tomorrow, I'll have to pay a visit to the Abbotts, and figure out just what exactly went wrong, and then we'll have to send the girl back to the asylum."

Albus was silent for a moment. "I guess so," he said eventually.

Minerva looked at him, recognizing his tone. "You _guess so_?" Minerva asked. "You don't mean to tell me that you think we should _keep_ her?" Minerva was incredulous, but a part of her was not surprised. Albus had always been more soft-hearted than she was.

"I don't see why not," Albus replied. "She could be company for you."

Minerva snorted gracelessly. "I'm not in need of company, much less from little girls. And if I was, it certainly wouldn't be from her."

"But she's a sweet little thing, Minerva. You can tell she's smart too, just as curious about the world as you were at that age." Minerva shot him a look.

"We have no need for a girl! What good would she be to us?"

Albus's bright blue eyes peered into Minerva's, and she knew it was going to be one of those moments when he would say something profound, and likely to change her mind. She had a desire to put her fingers over her ears so she wouldn't have to hear his reply, but she did not do so. "We could be of some good to her." His comment was met with silence, only the crackling of the fire, and the hum of crickets could be heard in the background. "I could hire a boy to help me in the fields, and she could help you out. I know you've been struggling more and more with your eyes, Minerva, whether you'll admit to it, or not. But, I'll leave it up to you to decide." Albus stood up, putting out his pipe as he did so, before nodding to Minerva. "I'm going to head up to bed."

Minerva nodded back, sitting back in her chair, her book lying unopened on her lap. She stared out the window, thinking for a long while before going up to bed herself. On the other side of the cottage, a little girl was buried under the covers, unable to sleep a wink as she was far too busy crying her eyes out until the first signs of dawn.


	4. Morning at Godric's Hollow

**Author's Note:**

 **Thank you to the amazing** **hurricanehairandemeraldeyes** **as always, for helping me shorten my ridiculous sentences, and make them flow better.**

 **This is a short one, but I hope to post two chapters next time. Fingers crossed! Good luck to anyone who has finals/ papers in the upcoming month. I, myself, have been swamped, so here's to hoping we all escape unscathed!**

 **I would also like to add that I have no personal knowlegde of life on a farm, or farm animals, so it's all either imagination, or based off of things I've read. Please feel free to correct me in either a PM, or a comment. It would be most appreciated!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: Everything here is inspired by, or taken from the amazing minds of the lovey ladies, Lucy Maud Montgomery and Joanne K. Rowling**

* * *

 _ **4\. Morning at Godric's Hollow**_

 _'"_ _There is no use in loving things if you have to be torn from them, is there? And it's so hard to keep from loving things, isn't it? That was why I was so glad when I thought I was going to live here. I thought I'd have so many things to love and nothing to hinder me."'_

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The early dawn sunlight drifted into the corner room from between the curtains, the light first filtered through the apple tree just outside the window, so that the room was filled with long, black shadows that served as reflections of the branches and blossoms. Almost as if it were a hand reaching out, the shadow of one branch fell across the small, wooden bed. The slight breeze outside caused the limbs to shake, making the shadow shake as well. It was this shifting of the branch, allowing bright light to fall upon the face of the sleeping child, that woke the girl up.

Lily's eyes fluttered, her mind reluctantly pulling out of the dream world, still sluggish with the heaviness of sleep. distantly, her ears picked up on the chirping of birds, and further out, the laughter of a nearby brook making its way across the landscape. The sound of rustling leaves threatened to pull Lily back to sleep, the wonderful, peaceful sounds of the world around her reminding her of her dream, where she had arrived in a mythical utopia, with a lake filled with mermaids, and a kind old man with twinkling blue eyes smiling at her like she was the most incredible sight he'd seen. Unfortunately, Lily's mind sharpened quickly and she jolted out of her stupor to remember her horrible reality. The horror hit her even harder as she was reminded of Minerva's stern glance when she told Lily that she was to be sent back to the orphanage.

Lily sighed heavily, all the troubles and sorrows she felt filling that one huff of air. She swung her spindly legs over the side of the bed, her toes touching the cool wooden floor, and tiptoed over to the window. She pulled aside the curtain, squinting against the sunlight as she looked at the yard. She was overwhelmed by an assault of greenery, everything in full bloom, bees flying from limb to limb, and she grabbed the window frame so that she might open the window and become a part of this majesty.

The window, with its gears rusted shut from neglect, took a bit of strength to open, but she was determined, and eventually managed to let in the fresh air. She leaned out as far she dared, her hair blowing all around her, and breathed in the scents of spring.

Oh, how she wished she had never come to Lyndegate Brooks, and Godric's Hollow! How she dreaded returning to London, where she would be greeted with the sounds of hustle and bustle, not the peaceful hum of nature at work; where she would breathe in smoke and ash, not the sweetness of nectar and freshness of water.

She leaned her arms on the sill, and cradled her head on them, gazing dreamily out on the world below her. She was so lost in this idyllic vision that she was unaware of her door opening, and Minerva walking in.

At a first glance, all Minerva saw were rumpled, empty bedsheets, and a pile of clothing upon the floor. But, as a breeze brushed gently against her cheek, she became aware of the fluttering curtains, and a pair of small feet poking out from behind them. She walked closer, noticing the girl kneeling before the window. "What on earth are you doing?" Minerva asked, causing the girl to jump in surprise.

"Oh! You startled me!" The child exclaimed, barely giving Minerva a passing glance before turning back to the window. "Isn't it just marvelous? Oh, how I love springtime! Everything just feels so vibrant and alive. Sometimes, I like to imagine I'm a tiny fairy, barely bigger than a petal on a rose, able to flit among all the greenery, and make them grow with a wave of my wand. And I would befriend a bumblebee, who would carry me when I grew tired of flying, which I doubt would be often, and he would teach me all about pollination, and show me the many secrets in nature. And I'd even be queen of the fairies, and make it so that we were all family, and no one would have to worry about being alone, or left behind."

Minerva shifted her weight, feeling uncomfortable. It was not often Minerva McGonagall felt off balance, especially in her own home, and it made her tone come off much sharper than she meant for it to be. "It's time you get dressed. Be sure to strip the bedclothes before coming down to breakfast, and for goodness sake, close that window!" She walked over to the doorway, and paused, watching the child come back into the room. She was even thinner in her undersized nightgown, and her hair was a mass of curls that looked like a crimson explosion around her head. Her eyes, which Minerva had not been able to see as clearly the night before, were bright and sparkling, the emerald orbs wonderfully framed by thick black lashes. Minerva found herself briefly wondering if the child truly was some fey creature, and not a human being, she had such an unusual look about her. But she shook off the thought, quickly walking from the room so to escape the mad influences of the child.

Lily slowly dressed herself while staring out the now closed window, trying to absorb as much as she could of the scene, so that she could remember and imagine it all later when she was back at the orphan asylum. She hurriedly braided her unruly hair, and sloppily made the bed, before gathering her bag and journeying downstairs.

Minerva was at the stove, eggs collected from the hens that morning frying in a pan, while freshly baked bread, and butter lay out on the table. Lily breathed in the smell of bacon frying, and felt her stomach grumble. 'Boy am I hungry!' Lily exclaimed, making her presence known. 'I thought I would not be so, especially since I'm going away from this marvelous place today, but I really, really am. Is that fresh milk? Did you get it from a cow? I've always wanted to have my own cow, and I would call her Blossom. She would be so white, and pretty, and have big eyes with long lashes, and she would produce the best milk all around, and people would come from all over to drink her milk. Could you teach me to milk a cow?'

'No,' Minerva replied simply, shoveling the eggs from the pan and onto three separate dishes, adding two strips of bacon each. She carried the plates over to the table, and set them down, gesturing to Lily. 'Go call Albus, if you please. He's out in the barn. Don't dawdle now.'

Lily skipped out the back door, and toward the barn. The sun shone down brightly on the earth, and warmed her face. It was so strange how jolly the day looked, especially considering it was a mournful one for Lily, but a part of her could not reconcile being upset on such a beautiful day.

The big oak doors to the barn were wide open, allowing Lily to see various animals lazing in their pens. There was the horse, Fawkes, and she paused as she walked by her stall, so that she could run her fingers over the mare's soft, wet nose. Fawkes snorted into her hair, nudging Lily's head as she did so. There was another horse, white with a spattering of black spots along his body, and a glorious black mane. The stallion lazily lifted his head to look at the girl, before turning his head away disdainfully. Lily, entranced, moved toward him, but was stopped by a voice.

'I wouldn't get too close to him, if I were you,' Albus said, walking casually into the barn and wiping his hands on a dirty handkerchief. 'A very proud horse, that is.'

'He's beautiful!' Lily exclaimed. 'So regal, I could almost imagine him as the horse of a king from some far off land.'

'He is regal, alright,' Albus replied, cautiously placing a bucket of oats into the stallion's stall. 'He belongs to the Potter boy. They pay us to house and tend to the beast. Fleamont Potter may own and run a successful business, but he still makes time for breeding and racing horses.'

"Does he have a name?' Lily asked. She was dying to get close to the horse. Lily had always had a great love and appreciation for all things beautiful. She also had a great love of animals, and seeing the two so masterfully combined together was making her jumpy.

'Hm… I believe they call him Pheidippides, after the messenger who alerted the Athenians of the victory at Marathon,' Albus replied.

'What a regal name for a regal horse,' Lily replied. She took another step toward the stallion, who was focused on his oats. He looked up as the girl came closer, and seemed to hesitate, almost debate whether she was worth attacking or not. In the end, Pheidippides dipped back into his oats, allowing Lily to get close enough to run her fingers through his mane.

'Girl!' They both turned at the sound of Minerva's voice, and looked over to see the woman standing with her hands on her hips, appearing rather vexed. 'I told you not to dawdle.' Minerva sighed heavily, looking for all the world as though she was at her last limit. 'Get inside, and scrub those hands. You'll both have a cold breakfast now.'

The trio returned to the house, Lily and Albus washing their hands, before they sat down to eat. The girl was lost in her own thoughts, chewing thoughtfully as her mind produced images of herself dressed up as Lady Guinevere, riding Pheidippides as she was on her way to battle dragons. Albus was watching the girl, his blue eyes twinkling with silent joy, occasionally exchanging a grin with the girl when she looked over at him. Minerva was quietly watching it all, her mind turning over in circles, constantly debating whether Albus had lost his mind over the thought of keeping the girl, yet feeling a sort of affection when she saw the pair together.

She cleared her throat, a pair of blue, and a pair of green eyes meeting her brown ones. 'Are you both done?' She asked.

She stood up to take their plates, but the girl looked at her. 'I can wash the dishes,' Lily said politely.

Minerva cocked an eyebrow. 'Do you know how to properly do the dishes?'

Lily nodded. 'They taught us how to do them at the asylum. We all had chores we had to perform on a daily schedule. I liked washing dishes, and sweeping best, as they allow the best time for imagining, but also because scrubbing the floors and tiles, and changing the beds is much too hard, and you need a partner to change the sheets. But no one wanted to be my partner because I have red hair, and they told me I talked too much.'

'Quite right they were!' Minerva replied tartly. 'You need to learn to hold your tongue, girl. Children are not supposed to go on and on as you do. Just answer what I ask, and leave it at that. I have no desire to hear your rambling.' On seeing the girl's slightly abashed look, Minerva felt guilty and softened her tone. 'Yes, you may do the dishes, but be very careful.'

The girl nodded and scooped them up, going over to the pump and grabbing the bar of soap.

Minerva wiped her hands on her apron, before bustling about again. 'I'll start supper now, Albus. I'll have to run over to Tutshill this afternoon to see Mrs. Abbott about this whole mess. I'll take Lily with me, and settle this matter. If I'm not back by six, feel free to eat without me. I'll put what I've prepared in the pantry. In the meantime, I'll have the mare and cart, so if you have any need of it, best do it now.'

Minerva turned her head away as Albus stared in her direction with a look she had no desire to see, as she knew it would be one of both reproach and longing. As it was, his silence was pressing on her, and she felt uncomfortable and twitchy. She desired for him to go back into the yard, so that she wouldn't have to endure these feelings for much longer.

Upon hearing Albus's heavy footsteps walk away from her, she turned to Lily, who had finished the dishes and was dutifully standing by with her hands folded in front of her. Minerva had to admit she was impressed with the job the girl had done, but still pressed her lips together. 'Go upstairs and remake your bed, it was sloppily done. And I told you to close that window!'

The girl flew up the stairs. She returned quickly enough, waiting again for orders. 'Go find something to do with yourself until I call for you.'

Lily spent the afternoon visiting all the farm animals. She named each and every one of them, so that she could better remember them once she was back at the asylum. She enjoyed the pigs, and the chicken, and the old, lazy cow, but her favourites were still the horses. She spent much of her time bouncing between the two, talking to them and inventing wild adventures and quests she would take on with the help of her trusty steeds.

A little after noon, Minerva called Lily's name, and she felt her heart stop. She was not ready yet! She still had some much memorising and imaging to do! She simply could not leave this wonderful, spectacular place yet. But when Minerva called her name a second time, sounding much more vexed, Lily sighed heavily, kissing both horses' noses, and walked back toward the house.

Albus soon came out of the barn leading Fawkes, and hitched her up to the cart. 'Remember,' Minerva said as she hopped into the cart. 'Supper is in the cupboard, and there's some raspberry cordial prepared as well. I should be back no later than seven.'

Albus nodded, before casually saying, 'I talked to Tobias Snape the other day, and he said his boy should be available to help out this summer. I told him we would be able to hire him.'

'Hmph,' was the only reply he got from Minerva. 'Lily, it's time to go.'

Lily nodded slowly, and walked over to Albus. 'Goodbye Albus!' She said, wrapping her arms around his waist and nuzzling her face into his chest. Albus hugged her back, closing his eyes, and Minvera looked away, unable to watch the tender scene. 'Don't forget me!'

'I don't reckon I ever could,' Albus replied, playfully bopping the girl on the nose. She giggled and jumped into the cart.

Minerva snapped the reins, and off they took, Lily waving goodbye to Albus, and staring longingly back at Godric's Hollow until it completely disappeared from sight.


	5. Lily's History

**Author's Note:**

 **This is a short one, which most definitely does not make up for the long period of time from my last update. My apologies.**

 **Also, the list of names are the farm animals.**

 **Also, also, there are vague mentions of abuse below, so just a heads up to anyone sensitive to these topics. Nothing is descriptive, but it is hinted at.**

 **Thank you to the amazing** **hurricanehairandemeraldeyes** **as always.**

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 **Disclaimer: Everything here is inspired by, or taken from the amazing minds of the lovey ladies, Lucy Maud Montgomery and Joanne K. Rowling**

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 ** _Lily's History_**

 _'"Well, that is another hope gone. My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes."'_

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Lily felt as though she might cry, but she bravely refused to let her tears fall, biting her bottom lip hard to distract herself from the moisture in her eyes. Later, back at the asylum, she could sob as hard as she might desire, but now she would rather spend her time taking in as much of Lyndegate Brooks as possible.

Minerva was muttering to herself beside Lily. '- most ridiculous man! Wanting to keep the child! Pah! We asked for a _boy_ , not a girl. We have no need to keep a _girl_. Oh Albus, why do you have to be too soft-hearted for your own good?' Minerva grumbled.

'I think he's wonderful!' Lily said reproachfully. 'He's kind, and smart, and very sympathetic. He liked how much I talked, and told me he liked my red hair! He's the first kindred spirit I've ever encountered, and it pains me mortally to be parted from him.'

Minerva rolled her eyes. 'Child, you are far too dramatic.'

Lily appeared to not have heard her, as she was too busy expressing all of her thoughts aloud. 'I've decided not to allow myself to fall into the depths of despair right now. I want to remember everything about my short time here without having it covered by a veil of misery. Though I mourn dreadfully about leaving behind Fawkes, and Pheidippides, and Carl, Ophelia, Desdemona, Petruchio, Malvolio, Antonio, Miranda, Balthasar, Portia, Viola, and Titania, and it absolutely _pains_ me that I won't get to live in a house that looks like the witch's cottage from _Hansel and Gretel_ , nor get to meet Marlene McKinnon and become bosom friends with her, I am determined to enjoy this ride, and memorise it all so that I can imagine it over and over again once I am back at the asylum.' She then paused, likely for a breath, but whatever the reason, Minerva was thankful for the break. Too soon though, Lily continued her monologue on with, 'Will we be passing the White Way of Delight, or the Lake of Shining Waters?'

'If you mean the Great Lake, then no. Tutshill is along the shore road,' Minerva replied.

'Ooh the _shore road_! I just love the ocean, don't you? I love how it's so constant, in and out and in and out, but that it's also unexpected because the waves vary depending on the weather, and wind, and day. I like to imagine it's because they are being controlled by Neptune, and that the sea reflects his mood. Don't you love the smell of the ocean too? I remember one time Madame Bones arranged a trip for all of us to go to Brighton, and I spent the whole day just watching the sea. How far is it to Tutshill?'

'Five miles,' Minerva replied. 'Lily, where did you hear all those names you listed earlier, Petruchio and Portia, and so on? Did someone tell you them?'

Lily shook her head, her braids moving with the motion. 'I read them in some books I found at Mrs. Rowle's house. They're from Shakespeare. Have you ever read Shakespeare? I love his writing; it's so fanciful, and so tragical! I simply love how emotional some of his stories are, especially _Othello_. I think I sobbed for three days straight after reading that one, but my favourite has to be _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ because it's great material to imagine. I can picture it all in my head, with Puck and Oberon, and all the other faeries just causing trouble. What's your favourite?'

'I rather enjoy _Macbeth_ ,' Minerva replied, rather impressed that a child as young as Lily had read Shakespeare. Then again, it was another matter entirely whether the girl had actually understood the themes behind what she had read. 'Lily, I want you to tell me about your past. What do you know about yourself, your people?'

Lily wrinkled her pert nose up, grimacing. 'I'd rather tell you what I imagine about my people. My actual past is not much interesting.'

Minerva sighed. 'I told you girl, I don't want any of your nonsense, only what I asked. Give me a truthful account. Start with your age.'

Lily sighed as well, but relented. 'I turned eleven years of age last January. I was born in a town called Cokeworth, an industrial town in the Midlands. My father was a hand at one of the factories, and my mother was a school teacher until she had my sister, Petunia. Then, of course, she stayed home, and raised her. Three years later, I was born.'

'You have a sister?' Minerva asked, shocked. 'Where is she? Why isn't she with you?'

Minerva watched the girl as she fidgeted in her seat, shifting uncomfortably, and wondered at the peculiar action. Lily had turned her face away, so Minerva could not discern any emotions expressed across it, but, she could tell this was a tale that brought Lily pain. She adjusted her grip on the reigns, and waited patiently for the girl to reply, allowing her time to gather herself.'Our parents died three months after I was born. Petunia told me I was the ugliest thing she had ever seen, and that my parents died of shame when they saw me, but Mrs. Dursley told me it was really typhoid fever. It took my father first, then my mother soon after. Mr. Dursley was father's employer, and when no one wanted to take us, he deigned to take us in. The Dursleys raised me and Petunia, along with their son, Vernon, and daughter, Marge, for five years, until Mr. Dursley died from liver failure. He was an a man often in his cups, you see, and they say he just dropped dead one day while at the pub.

'After he passed, Mrs. Dursley decided I was too much to handle, and so she sent me off to live with the Rowle's, some distant relatives of theirs. They kept Petunia because they thought she was redeemable. Petunia told me she was glad I was leaving, as I was an embarrassment to her. I haven't seen her since then. She'll be fourteen in two weeks.' The girl paused, lost in her grim thoughts.

Minerva gave her a few minutes alone, then asked, 'What about your time with Mrs. Rowle?'

'I lived with the Rowles for two years, and I was there to help the governess. You see, Mrs. Rowle had seven children! Three sets of twins, and she had just given birth before I arrived to a boy! I like children enough, but seven children, and three sets of twins, all under the age of eight, is too many! I suspect that Mrs. Rowle would have sent me away sooner, as she did not like me very much, but the governess quit, so they had to keep me on until they could find someone new. Once they did, they sent me to the asylum in London, and that's where I've been since.'

Minerva absorbed this information. What a trial this child had had! Abandoned by her sister, and shuttled around from household to household. She could not fathom leaving a child of around the age of seven or eight in charge of so many children; few grown women could handle such a load! No wonder she had wanted to stay; the girl had never had a permanent home, or even the chance to be a child. 'Did you ever go to school, Lily?'

'Petunia taught me to read when we were at Mrs. Dursley's, but I didn't attend until I was at the asylum. I would sneak into the library at Mrs. Rowle's house sometimes at night to read, though. I love books! Have you ever read _Frankenstein_ , or _Dracula?_ They're just marvelously horrifying! They absolutely sent thrills down my spine when I read them. I sometimes think it might be exciting to be a vampire, and be able to turn into a bat, but I don't fancy having to drink blood and kill people.'

'Did they treat you well, Mrs. Dursley, and Mrs. Rowle?' Minerva asked gently bringing her back to the subject at hand.

Lily's face drained of blood, and she looked down again. 'O-ooh… ummm… well… they treated me as well as they could. I'm sure if I were only as redeemable as Petunia, and if Mr. Dursley did not drink all the time, Mrs. Dursley would have liked me. And Mrs. Rowle just had too many children, so had very little patience. I'm sure they _meant_ to treat me well.'

Minerva pursed her lips, feeling her hackles rise in indignation on behalf of the child. She knew a lie when she heard one, which made her next question even harder to ask. 'What about at the asylum?'

Lily didn't bother answering, pretending she had not heard. This was answer enough for Minerva.

Oh, how it made her blood boil! Poor child, abused and neglected, never having a proper home… it made Minerva absolutely sick to hear how these people had treated Lily. And the asylum! Why, that should have been a shelter for the girl, not yet another house of horrors. Minerva felt her stomach twist with a feeling much like guilt, but she brushed it off. _Perhaps the girl will be adopted by a loving family this time. She's not_ so _bad. Yes, she talks far too much, and about such frivolous topics, but she is clearly very intelligent, and could easily be moulded into something respectable. It's not too late for her. Oh, I do hope it all works out for the better._

Minerva snapped the reins, encouraging Fawkes to move quicker. She needed to get this child away from her quickly, as Minerva could already feel her heart trying to persuade her mind to change its decision.


End file.
